The Vortexed Mind of a Death Eater
by Sygnus Maxwell Serpentine
Summary: A death eater named Sygnus tells rarely heard stories about his days, ranging from his killings to his spell-weaving.
1. Introduction to Sygnus

_'Hate is more lasting than dislike.'_

So said Adolf Hitler. I don't know what the fuck that has to do with anything right now, but I wanted a quote.

My name is Sygnus. I have a middle and last name, but I don't think I trust you yet. I write to you because I have such a rich history.

I've done it all, from murder to extortion. I'm a death eater. Basically, I fuck shit up at the will of the Dark Lord. You'll have to pardon my language.

I thrive on death, and it's been a long time.

**A REALLY, REALLY LONG TIME**

You see, with the recent death of my Lord, the death eaters have receded. You won't be catching me, or anyone else with a fucking brain, in the Ministry's courts.

Azkaban was a bad time for me. Anyway, we're far too scattered to make any effort to wage another war. Without a singular leader to follow, we're no more than a public nuisance.

Like a muggle teenager with a can of spray paint, we can do little more than cause little disturbances.

**INSIGNIFICANT**

I've got stories, and you've got the mind to process them. I've committed the worst of all atrocities.

_'Avada Kedavra'_ has become my life's code. It used to be my fuel. It's now been over a year since I've killed, and I crave it right now in the worst way. But, seeing as how I can't, I want to relive my moments. My exploits.

Read on. I've got these fucking memories, and through them, you're going to understand how I came to be. What makes a murderer tick? Read.

**NOW**


	2. The End of Malcolm Beck

What is it about murder that makes it so glamorous? I mean, holy shit, it feels great! It's mesmerizing to watch that jet of green light hit your target square in the chest (or in the head, if you're really fucking tripping) and see him drop like a meteorite.

I'll never forget the first time I killed another wizard. He was such a cocky bastard, and I'm surprised I had to be the asshole to end him.

It was on a Thursday evening. I was a seventh-year in Hogwarts. By that time, I had been a death eater for over a year, and I knew the ropes.

I could perform the Unforgivables with relative ease. I only had an issue with the Cruciatus Curse. That shit backfired on me one time.

Imagine a train hitting you, then it somehow turning around and hitting you again. While that's happening, you're in an oven. An oven that keeps shooting knives at you. That's what this felt like.

Murder and mind control came a lot easier to me, as I found it easier to put some power into that stuff.

Anyway, it's Thursday and I'm in the bathroom taking a piss. This asshole named Malcolm Beck comes in and starts pissing right next to me. There were five other fucking urinals in there and he has to take this piss next to me. The whole fucking time he's going, he's looking at me smiling.

**"Knock it off,"** I said.

**"Nope,"** he replied with a bigger smile.

Seriously? I finished up and zipped. Went over to the sink and started washing. I look in the mirror and this marvelous result of incest is turned and pissing on the floor.

I had just enough time to jump out of the way of this river of piss making its way to me. He's still got that stupid grin on, and I've had enough of it. Finally, he forms a sentence.

**"Am I pissing you off,"** he asked me.

Kid, you have no fucking clue. I got my damn wand out and pointed it at him. That piss stream stopped instantly. He looked at me incredulously and started backing up with both of his hands up. I advanced slowly.

Then I pulled up my sleeve and showed him my Dark Mark. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull, and that was all it took. He sprinted for the exit. Thankfully, I'm a marksman.

**"Crucio!"**

He STOPPED and hit the damn floor. This kid had pipes. I'm telling you, he could yell. Not only that, but his squirming was pretty top notch.

Tears were in his eyes after a few seconds, and I finally felt that sweet relief that comes with making a lesser-being suffer. Malcolm was only half-blooded. An anomaly, if you ask me.

Seeing as how it was evening, I knew that making noise would surely attract someone, so I told him to shut up. He kept screaming.

**"Have it your way. Avada Kedavra!"**

BAM! Green light flooded that bathroom and he wasn't squirming anymore. It was one of the first moments in my life that I felt proud. The only other person I'd really killed was my mother, and that was an accident. I'll tell you about that some other time.

Back to poor Malcolm. There he was, dead in a puddle of his own urine. Maybe it would look like he died passing a kidney stone. I wasn't going to stick around to find out.


	3. Spellweaving for Explosive Lovers

Petty murder perfectly describes the death of Malcolm. They found him and they were damn-near horrified. The kidney stone idea did NOT pull through. They knew that the Killing Curse had been at work, and they were out to find who did it.

No one suspected me. I always did my work, got perfect scores, and let's face it: I'm fairly beautiful for a death eater. Anyway, killing someone else during this high alert period wouldn't be beneficial to my health, so I had decided to try something else: inventing my own spell! Oh, the happiness that flowed through me!

This took quite the amount of mental ability. I sat that staring at my wand for four hours before I was able to finally channel enough energy to make this work.

I called it the Praemium Curse, though it wasn't really a curse, as praemium means 'explode' in Latin. I remember a specific night with one of my friend's owls..

**"Praemia,"** I shouted with ferocity.

That _fucker_ blew up and all around. It was really neat, too, because the spell was a pitch-white color. It was nearly as blinding as the feathers flying into my eyes after I had cast it. I was content, though. I'd created my very own spell.

Perhaps in the future, I'll tell you about some of the horrific and bloody incidents that it caused. Until next time, my people.


End file.
